


Passion

by flightlessxbird



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Murder, Prison, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightlessxbird/pseuds/flightlessxbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian kills Kenyatta after finding out Mandy was still staying with him and isn't ready to deal with any kind of prison sentence. Mickey is determined to break Ian out. (Based off Prison Break and a prompt someone sent me)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Make It Sound Like A Traffic Accident

                It took a while for Ian to realize that the warm, thick mess on his hands was blood. A part of him tried to coax him into believing that when he opened his eyes again he’d be in bed with Mickey, the brunet’s warm, thick come running over his hand as they hit their climax together. Even with this thought in mind, he couldn’t bear to open his eyes. He heard Mandy screaming behind him, faintly felt her fists slamming into his back, but everything in the world was distant. Everything but the knife clutched tightly in his hand the crumpled body at his feet. He suddenly wished he hadn’t made himself so comfortable in the Milkovich home by taking his shoes off at the door, for blood was now pooling around his feet and seeping into his socks. He thought he might throw up from the heavy scent of iron in the kitchen, but as his hand found its way to the wall to steady him he could only dry-heave and grab at his stomach. Somewhere in the doorway behind him, Mickey was cursing and dialing some number on his phone. The various beeps from the numbers Mickey dialed seemed to be blasting in Ian’s ears. He felt hypersensitive and he started to hyperventilate, his legs buckling beneath him.

                “Fuck, Ian!” Mickey grabbed Ian by his waist and pulled him back before he could slip in the viscous puddle of blood. They fell back against a wall and slid to the floor together with Ian settled between Mickey’s legs and lying back against his chest. Mickey tried to make Ian look at him, but Ian still wouldn’t dare open his eyes. Mickey was panting just as harshly as he was, his hot breath against Ian’s neck becoming the only sense of reality the redhead had left. After Mickey hung up the phone, he adjusted so he could turn Ian’s head toward him.

                “Ian, look at me.” _No,_ Ian thought. _Then it’s real. If I can see it, then it’s real._ “ _Ian,_ look at me. This is not a good time to do this. Would you fucking look at me?” Mickey slammed his fist against the wall, scaring Ian out of his shock. His eyes fluttered open and it was all he could do not to look at the body. He had to think of it as just a body, and not Kenyatta the person who had a family and a past and a future. If it was just a body, it wasn’t a life.

                “Look at me Ian, we need to get you cleaned up, okay? This is gonna get taken care of, now come on.” Mickey got up and dragged Ian to his feet, supporting him as he walked them towards the bathroom. He glanced back just before they turned the corner and saw Mandy covering her mouth and panicking. His eyes fell to the mess of crimson staining the linoleum flooring only for a moment and his dry-heaving subsided into puking.

                “Mandy go to your room, _now,”_ Mickey called over his shoulder and Ian heard Mandy’s quick, pattering footsteps scurrying back to her room, her quiet sobs  filling up the house. Once Mickey got him into the bathroom, he kicked the door shut and started stripping Ian’s clothes away, tossing them and his blood-soaked socks into a bucket near the bathtub. He reached for the knife in Ian’s hand but was met with a hand pressed to his chest cautiously.

                “We’re cool,” Mickey held Ian’s deer-in-the-headlights gaze and slowly grabbed the knife, easing it out of his hand. “Everything’s cool.” Dropping the knife into the bucket of clothes, Mickey pulled off his own clothes and threw them in too, just for good measure. He left Ian for a moment to start running a bath. When Ian went to look up into the mirror, he saw his reflection staring back at him a thousand times, with more judgment than he could stand right now. He wanted to ask Mickey what happened to the mirror as a distraction, but he couldn’t get the words out. His throat was tight and dry, his mouth felt cottony and as though it were glued shut. Mickey’s reassuring grip on his hips returned and he was guided into the bathtub, stepping in carefully and sitting down with his knees pulled up to his chest.

                “Everything’s gonna be fine. My brothers and me are gonna fix it, okay? It was an accident.” Mickey scrubbed roughly at Ian’s hands to get the blood off, but Ian hardly noticed it. He wanted to feel as sure as Mickey sounded, but he was terrified. Kenyatta—the body – was dead. Because of _him._ He _killed_ a person. Everyone in the South Side talked big about killing people, even Ian remembered when Carl almost killed cousin Patrick and he barely batted an eyelash because he didn’t much care for Patrick. But he _hated_ Kenyatta, and he still couldn’t breathe as he imagined his lifeless eyes staring up at Ian as blood spurted from his throat. Mickey was halfway through washing Ian’s hair when the bathroom door opened and Ian almost had a heart attack thinking it was the cops.

                “Burn the clothes, get rid of the knife. Get some bleach from the Kash ‘n’ Grab and we’ll scrub down the kitchen and the tub.” Mickey pushed the bucket toward the door and Ian peeked open one eye to see Iggy picking it up, the rest of the brothers and cousins Milkovich standing behind him. Then he shut his eye quickly because shampoo seeped into it and it started burning violently. He thrashed around in the tub both from pain and delayed panic.

                “My eye, fuckin’ shampoo,” Ian cried out pathetically and tried to push Mickey away, but the brunet grabbed his shoulders and forced him to stay still.

                “Which eye?” Mickey asks, annoyingly calm to Ian.

                “L-left…” He squirms more, splashing blood-tinted water out of the bathtub before Mickey got clean water from the sink and started washing the shampoo out of his eye. Once the burning subsided, Mickey drained the tub and made Ian stand up.

                “Bath was a bad idea, fuckin’ ring of blood, still dirty,” Mickey mumbled and turned on the shower, making Ian jump from the sudden heat against his skin. This time Mickey got in with him, washing Ian’s hair thoroughly again and scrubbing any remaining blood from his body before shutting it off and walking him out. He wrapped a towel around Ian’s shoulders and his own waist. Then he led Ian back to his bedroom and sat him down on the bed, despite the fact that he was still soaking. Mickey looked up to see Svetlana standing in the doorway holding Yevgeny with her usual look of disgust toward him.

                “Fuck you,” he said, slamming the door shut and listening to her walk away as he searched through his drawers for clothes Ian could wear. Everything Mickey had was too small for Ian and while on any other day he’d love to see the redhead wearing a skintight T-shirt and jeans that perfectly shaped his ass, this wasn’t the time. He finally found a hoodie that he thought might fit Ian, and some sweatpants that Ian had left there one night (well, Mickey took them after they had sex and gave Ian one of his brother’s sweatpants, saying he never found Ian’s.) He laid the clothes out on the bed beside Ian and knelt down to make him look at him.

                “You trust me, right?” Mickey rested his hands on Ian’s knees who looked at him and gave a little nod.

                “Everything’s gonna be fine. It’ll be like this never happened. I promise.” Mickey leaned up to kiss Ian quickly before turning to find some clothes for himself. Behind him, Ian finished drying off slowly and started pulling on the clothes that he’d been given. Once he had his sweatpants on, he couldn’t help the smile that twitched at his lips just for a moment.

                “Aren’t these mine?” Ian croaked out, running his finger tips over the soft material. His mouth was so dry that it hurt to talk, but he never passed up an opportunity to make Mickey prove once again that he loved Ian, even if he never says it outright.

                “Uh, I guess.”

                “Thought you said they were ‘lost’.”

                “Must’a turned up,” Mickey said, hiding a smile as he got dressed. He turned back to Ian who had gotten dressed and bit at his nails nervously. Mickey sighed and went over to Ian, pushing him gently to lie down on the bed.

                “Go to sleep, ‘kay? We’ll clean everything up, you just rest.” Mickey pulled the covers over Ian and moved to leave, but Ian grabbed his hand quickly.

                “Mick, what the fuck am I gonna do?” Mickey stared at Ian sadly for a moment, remembering that for all the antics that went down at the Gallagher house, Ian had never killed anyone. He literally had no clue about the life he was in for.

                “You’re gonna keep your mouth shut and sleep this shit off while I handle it,” he said with a sigh before turning out the lights and heading out of the room. Ian curled up into a tight ball under the blankets, shivering in Mickey’s hoodie that barely fit him. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut, let Mickey handle this, and try to pretend that it was only a body in the kitchen and not a life he’d destroyed. Easier said than done.


	2. Properly Propagated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She’s not gonna just get over me killing her boyfriend,” Ian said, shrugging.
> 
> “When she remembers what the asshole did to her face then yeah, she’ll get over it.”
> 
> “Fine,” Ian stepped in front of Mickey and put his hand on his chest to stop him. “I won’t get over it.”

                The pungent scent of bleach stung Ian’s nostrils as he woke up. He must have been out for hours, as the sun had set and Mickey’s room was pitch black. Not to mention devoid of Mickey himself. Of course, he hadn’t really expected to find the brunet lying asleep beside him what with his family just outside the door, but it was still a small hope in the back of his mind. He was just glad Terry was in jail. It’s more than likely that Terry wouldn’t have been too happy to have the Gallagher in his home. Especially considering he murdered someone. But the infinite amount of possible presents wasn’t Ian’s priority right now; it was the narrow scope of likely futures. He had one of three futures ahead of him. One: He could get away scot free and pretend none of this shit ever happened. Two: He could get arrested and get _at least_ 5years in prison. Or three: He could get arrested and be found by the army as a deserter and would receive an even worse punishment. The latter felt the most likely and suddenly Ian’s breath was stuck in his throat. He thrashed around in a panic, anxiety eating away at his reasoning. He heard something get knocked off the bed but decided to ignore it when he heard his phone _ping_. Breathing was a little more important than what was trending on twitter right now.

                The door opened and the room was awash in light and the scent of bleach which went right from Ian’s nostrils to his stomach, almost making him sick. For a moment, Ian thought Mickey was going to smack him out of it but he retreated to the bedroom door. After shutting it and locking it behind him, he hurried back to Ian’s side and grabbed his shoulders.

                “Come on, you gotta breathe. Relax, okay?” It took Ian a while, but soon his quick and shallow breaths returned to normal and he fell back into the mattress.

                “You good,” Mickey asked, “or do we gotta give you CPR or some shit?”

                “No no, I’m fine.” Ian caught his breath as he looked up to Mickey who still held his shoulders.

                “Okay well, the kitchen and the bathroom are all cleaned up. If you want something to eat, we ordered some pizza—“

                “No,” Ian interrupted quickly, holding his stomach. “I can’t. I feel sick.”

                “Don’t puke in my bed.” Mickey warned and grabbed his cigarettes from the bedside table. He lit one and held it between his lips before Ian knocked it away from his mouth.

                “What the fuck, Gallagher?”

                “How can you sit here and smoke a fucking cigarette and order a pizza like nothing ever happened? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?” Ian pushed away from Mickey and swung his legs over the other side of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and feeling his breath being stolen from him again. He dry heaved painfully until Mickey’s hands rested on his waist. He had the cigarette back between his lips and blew smoke past Ian’s cheek.

                “Because I didn’t kill Kenyatta, you did. And the sooner you realize that you can’t take that shit back, the better. But for now, I’m trying to be the one keeping my head on straight so you don’t get in trouble. So my _family_ doesn’t get in trouble. So _please_ Ian. Keep your shit together.”

                “Don’t worry about me _keeping_ _my shit together_ ,” Ian pushed off the bed and bolted towards the door. “I’m fuckin’ out of here.” As Ian made his way out of the room, the smell of bleach had him reeling back against the door. It really was stronger once you were in the midst of the former bloodbath. He covered his nose with the sleeve of Mickey’s hoodie and made his way out of the house. Mickey stood looking like a lost puppy in the middle of his kitchen where his siblings feasted on pizza and pragmatically ignored Ian and Mickey’s little domestic dispute. Any mention of it would certainly have had Mickey jumping down their throats and right now they were far too busy with their dinner. He was going to ignore the fight too and eat, but when he remembered that Mandy had gone to the Gallaghers’ in search of Lip and he thought Ian might need his help. So of course, he had to run after him. But definitely not because he wanted to. Nope, he was just worried Mandy might get a murder charge too. He definitely wasn’t chasing after a _Gallagher_. But as his feet carried him closer and closer to the Gallagher home, Ian realized he was being followed and looked back to catch the Milkovich’s eye. And of course the grin that threatened to break Ian’s lips apart told him exactly what he always feared. He was chasing after Ian Gallagher like some bitch.

                “You used to run way faster than that,” Ian said with a laugh as Mickey finally caught up to him. “Maybe you should try getting in shape—“

                “Maybe you should eat me,” Mickey flipped Ian off and they continued their walk to the Gallagher house side by side.

                “So you know, Mandy might be there. She went off looking for Lip earlier. She’s still uh…” Mickey noticed Ian’s downcast gaze at the mention of his sister’s name and trailed off a bit. “She’ll get over it, don’t worry.”

                “She’s not gonna just get over me killing her boyfriend,” Ian said, shrugging.

                “When she remembers what the asshole did to her face then yeah, she’ll get over it.”

                “Fine,” Ian stepped in front of Mickey and put his hand on his chest to stop him. “ _I_ won’t get over it.”

                “Oh come on.” Mickey scoffed and continued walking, pulling Ian’s arm along with him. “Not like you killed Gandhi or some shit. The guy was a scumbag.”

                “Scumbag or not he was a person, Mick.” Ian argued but didn’t stop walking, even as the heavy veil of dread set upon him the closer they got to his back porch. Mickey just shrugged and went up the steps, ready to open the door when Ian grabbed his hand and stopped him.

                “If Fiona doesn’t already know, we don’t tell her. Okay?”

                “Obviously not. The less people who know, the better.” Mickey pushed open the door and the pair were stunned to find Mandy, Lip and Fiona sitting at the dinner table and turning their attention towards the door.

                “Ian, what the fuck?” Fiona started, though she sounded more concerned than angry. Mandy stared up at Ian with a death glare that made him cringe.

                “Look Fiona, you weren’t there you don’t understand—“

                “I understand that you put your whole future in jeopardy! Now sit the fuck down so we can figure out what we’re gonna do.”

                “I’m not gonna do anything, it’s taken care of.”

                “By who? The brothers Milkovich? I’m not talking about that Ian, I’m talking about if you get _caught_. We need to get your story straight—“

                “Woah woah,” Mickey interrupted. “Who the fuck said anything about getting caught?”

                “Mickey, sit down.”

                “You think my brothers didn’t do it right? We’ve been through shit like this before we—“

                “Mick sit the fuck down before I break your neck.” Mandy slammed her hand on the table which made Mickey jump a bit.

                “Mandy,” Ian started pathetically, walking towards her despite Mickey trying to grab his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me I was just so pissed that he—“ A loud _slap_ resounded through the kitchen and Ian remained completely still, stunned.

                “You fucking idiot,” Mandy cried. “You think I give a shit about that asshole? Okay yeah, I was scared of him hitting me again or you or Mickey, so I played it off like I didn’t want to go with you. But you were fucking _stupid enough_ to actually kill him!” She shoved him angrily down into a chair, practically snarling. “Do you know how much trouble you could get in? I thought you were smarter than that, Ian.”

                A sigh of relief ripped through the lungs of the boys, Mickey collapsing into a chair next to Ian.

                “ _That’s_ why you were so pissed? Are you fucking kidding me?” Ian’s heart finally started beating again and he stood up to hug Mandy tightly.

                “Jesus, what did you think? That I cared about Kenyatta? Bitch can burn in hell for all I care.” Mandy was clearly still angry, but she hugged Ian back nonetheless. Ian felt Fiona’s hand rest on his shoulder.

                “Look, everything’s gonna be fine. ‘Kay? Now just sit down and we’re gonna make a plan,” she said, glancing toward Mickey. “Just in case.”

                "I get it," Mickey hissed.

                "And  _no one else_ finds out about this. Got it? We don't need this shit spreading around and getting Ian in trouble."

                "Aw, and I had so much propaganda planned for Ian's incarceration," Lip joked, earning him a smack to the head from Mandy and Ian chasing him upstairs.


	3. I'm An Anchor, All I'll Do Is Drag Them Down With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey was expecting to join Ian in prison, but it seems Ian has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments or reviews are more than welcome, considering I'm not sure how this is turning out or if I like it much. It's a fairly short chapter considering it's 5 AM and I'm basically avoiding needing to use legal jargon that I don't understand.

                Nothing could be easy, could it? Of course not. This is the South Side, not fucking Willy Wonka’s Get-Away-With-Murder Factory. Mickey had been horrified when a bunch of cops practically kicked down the Gallagher’s door in search of Ian; apparently Mickey’s cousins didn’t get rid of the knife as efficiently as they’d promised. And now Mickey sat amidst a crowded courtroom, staring up at Ian who was being questioned by an attorney. They’d all had this conversation before. It had all been practiced and perfected. After a series of questions regarding the nature of the murder and deeming it a crime of passion, the attorney would ask Ian if he acted alone in the disposal of the body. Of course, Mickey wasn’t keen on his family getting in trouble, so he told Ian to say only he helped him. Mickey didn’t mind taking the fall for his brothers because he knew it wasn’t their problem. They threw themselves under the bus by helping him and Ian and he supposed it was his way of thanking them.

                “Now, you said that you stayed in the Milkovich home the rest of the night of the murder,” Mickey saw Ian visibly wince at the word ‘murder’, “but the home was cleaned and the body burned that same evening.” The lawyer looked at Ian pointedly.

                “Yes,” Ian said, his voice unusually small. “I did say that.”

                “So is that to say you didn’t act alone in the disposal of the body?” Mickey shut his eyes, feeling a lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. He’d been to juvie, sure. But prison was never a real goal of his. And now that’s exactly where he was headed.

                “I did say I stayed in the house the rest of the night, but I didn’t. I cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom with bleach then burned Ken… the body.” Mickey’s heart sank to his toes and he felt bile rising in his throat. His eyes snapped open. What the fuck was Ian doing? Mickey was about to stand up and start yelling, but Fiona was sitting beside him and she grabbed his wrist firmly. His head snapped in her direction and he glared at her. She stared back at him with a calm look that only pissed him off more.

                “What the fuck are you guys trying to pull,” Mickey hisses, moving to stand up again but Fiona holds him down by his shoulder.

                “His stupid choice. Let him deal with it.”

                “Fuck that.” Mickey manages to stand up half way before Mandy grabs him roughly by the shirttail and forces him back down.

                “Shut up Mick. Ian will kill us if we let you say anything, so just shut up and sit down.” Mickey tore his eyes away from his sister and to his boyfriend sitting up on the stand. He was staring Mickey down intently. He looked scared and tired and most of all he looked like he was about to sew Mickey’s mouth shut. The way he stared at Mickey as they went into a recess made him finally shut his mouth. Everyone was standing up and murmuring as they left the courtroom, but Mickey and Ian still sat and stared across the room at each other, both a threat in their eyes. Mickey threatening to tell everyone the truth, and Ian threatening to never forgive Mickey if he did. A bailiff escorted Ian out and their eyes never broke contact until he was out of Mickey’s line of sight.

                Finally, Mickey stood and made his way out of the courtroom to join his sister and Fiona. He clasped his hands together behind his back, his lips pressed tightly together.

                “What the fuck is going on?”

                “In my words, or Ian’s?”

                “Does it matter?”

                “Well,” Fiona started, wringing her hands, “in my words, he’s being a fucking moron. In his words, he doesn’t want to be an anchor.”

                “An anchor?” Mickey questioned.

                “He said he didn’t want to bring anyone down with him.”

                Mickey cursed under his breath, knowing that now Ian was fucked. The whole point of giving Mickey up was so that he would have a chance at serving less time for being cooperative, especially considering this was his first real tangle with the law. But he pretty much fucked that up. He also gave the impression that he’d lied while under oath and that wasn’t going to help at all. Ian was going to be in prison for _years_ at this rate. How the fuck was Mickey supposed to make it that long without him?

                By the time court reconvened that afternoon, Mickey had already started jotting down ideas in the notes of his phone. Fuck that bullshit, he wasn’t going to go more than a day without Ian and if this was going to get fixed, he needed to start planning now. He wasn’t going to let Ian go again.


End file.
